Breaking the Ice
by OneShotRevolt
Summary: Tomas Vrbada and Kuai Liang are the only survivors of the Lin Kuei Clan, and its legacy lies heavy on Kuai Liang's shoulders. Tomas seeks to lighten a little of his lover's darkness.


The Temple was shut in the trappings of darkness, swamped in snow and the pall of night. The stars were cold, uncaring, and distant. The wind was howling and rattling at the heavy wooden locked gates. Beyond them was a desolate courtyard that skittered with stray snow, watched over by the still, stone eyes of weathered lion guardians. The only sounds were the whistle of chill air through empty rooms, the occasional thud of snow sliding off the pagoda curled roofs, and the scratch of a stiff brush on paper.

It was easier to write by brush. Sometimes the old methods were the best. Ink would often freeze on colder nights, and packages from the outside world might take weeks to arrive at the remote mountain temple. Better to grind the ink afresh each time it was needed; heat a little snow on a crackling fire for water. There was never any shortage of that.

Kuai Liang pulled his brush down through a name, blotting it out with a single line. The traditional methods of Lin Kuei recruitment involved kidnapping, coercion, or engineering such desperate circumstances that a potential recruit practically fell into their waiting claws. As the new Grandmaster, he would not abide by those same standards. He would research his potential warriors before extending them an invitation. This was him crossing off people who still weren't a good fit. The short list was getting shorter, and he hadn't even sent any invitations yet.

He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. The candle he was working by flickered small in a sudden gust of wild wind bending through the ancient temple halls. He could smell its fine wick and fragrance and the chaff of smoke catching his nostrils. He opened his eyes to something bulky blocking his vision. He jumped back. Ice formed on his hands.

"Hmm, you scare so easily, Krásná. The temple's empty, who else is it going to be?"

Kuai gathered himself, glaring angrily at the man sitting cross-legged on his desk. He was whispy in the moonlight, trails of smoke twisting insubstantial about him.

"I was working," Kuai growled, though he let the ice in his hands melt.

The ephemeral man peered at him through eyes that caught the moon: cat-like slivers shining in the gloom.

"It's the middle of the night."

"I was working," Kuai repeated, expression dark and uncompromising, "and you're sitting on my work."

"Time to rest for the night."

"The ink was still wet."

"Yeah, you were just crossing stuff out for the last hour though. If it's all smudged, then I just sped up what would've taken you another hour to do."

Kuai's lip twitched in irritation,

"Tomas, that's a list of potential recruits. I'm trying to rebuild this place. I'm trying live up to the legacy Cyrax left me with – asked me for with his dying breath." Cyrax hadn't been able to breathe for some time before his death, but not even Tomas was fool enough to make a joke out of that slip. "You just telling me it's all hopeless is…- I don't need hopeless. I've got enough of that in this gods-forsaken place full of ghosts and memories and-"

Tomas jumped down from the desk, the playful light gone from his face,

"Kuai, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to say what you're doing is hopeless-"

"Well, sometimes it feels like it! It's just you and me now, and I'm trying my damnedist to do something here! Do you know how easy it would be just to let all the ashes of this place scatter and to never look back?! And instead of supporting me, you're flitting about, make light of what I'm trying to do, acting like this is all some joke, filling the temple with your-"

"Laughter. Care. Love."

"_Tomas._"

Tomas tilted his head. His hair moved soft about his face, like it was lighter than air.

"You have enough darkness, Kuai Liang. I only thought to give you a little light. I know rebuilding the clan means a lot to you. But if you were sitting here doing it on your own, you'd be glaciers deep in your own solitary melancholy. You try to shoulder all these burdens alone, but each new loss hangs heavier on you. Since Bi-Han died you haven't been the same person. Losing Cyrax, losing all those people we grew up with, even losing Sektor – rebuilding the clan is more than just a promise – it's trying to reach for the family we've lost. You think I don't know that? What do you want of me: to sit next to you, crossing names off that list and telling you that the world has moved on, and there are no more good candidates for the life of a lonely assassin? Is that what you'd rather I do? I _am _helping you, Kuai. I _am _supporting you. Just in the only way I know how."

Kuai stood. A window behind caught him in silhouette, highlighting his bulk and muscle. When he breathed out his breath was visible as plumes of white in the chill air. Tomas hesitated, the image calling to mind an older, colder Sub-Zero than the one he had grown to love. That recollection made him step back. The figure advanced towards him, steps heavy with deliberation. Tomas matched him step-for-step, retreating until he felt the cold stone of a wall behind his back. His Kuai Liang had been changing for a long time now – strained thin by grief and despair, stretched until he was a shadow of his former self. Tomas had striven to keep alight that spark in his friend, but the cynical part of him had wondered if there would come a time when all that was recognisable of the man he loved was finally snuffed out.

It was with some surprise that he felt a sudden warmth pushed against his lips, forceful and desperate. He blinked as a chest pinned his own and hands found his, trapping them against the wall.

"K-Kuai!" he managed to gasp when Kuai paused for air.

"You're right," Kuai murmured, and Tomas didn't have time to ask what about before that kiss returned again, fill with need. Tomas opened his mouth to the searching tongue and let it dart into his mouth, curling around his own, warm and wet and close and everything the Lin Kuei Temple was not. Fingers interlocked in his own, clasping them tight, and he could feel Kuai Liang's heartbeat echoing in his own bones as he pressed against him.

When Kuai next let him breathe, he leaned his forehead against Tomas's. They were both panting now, and Tomas felt Kuai's hair damp with sweat against his skin.

"You're right," Kuai had to pause between his words to catch air. "I couldn't do this without what you give me. Sometimes I feel like I'm losing myself. This place… the things we've lost… I can feel my heart icing over. And you..." He gave a slight laugh and Tomas felt it rumble through his body, "and you come in with an ice pick, shattering the hardness that keeps growing in me."

"Mm, well, I do try," Tomas's own words sounded warm, demure, woolly, breathless to his ears – like he'd downed a glass of wine and its heat was just hitting his head. The air between them was thick and moist. Tomas nudged his nose against Kuai's, the only move he could make to indicate that he wanted more – that words weren't enough.

"You're very patient with me, Tomas Vrbada."

"Afraid I can't quite say the same of you."

Kuai shifted, sliding a leg between Tomas's. He turned his head so that his lips were close to Tomas's ear and growled,

"You teleported onto my desk and sat on my work, Tomas."

Tomas shivered and closed his eyes, pushing into Kuai, looking for more pressure, more contact.

"A guy needs to be a little dramatic to draw Grandmaster Sub-Zero out of his self-imposed prison."

"And how's that working out for you?" Kuai nudged his leg more firmly into Tomas's crotch. The expulsion of air he got in response could have served as answer enough.

"P-pretty well actually."

Kuai could feel Tomas growing distracted, his words and appearance coming undone in gradual strands each time Kuai spoke and at each new touch. Kuai brought his fingers up and cupped his lover's cheek. Tomas tilted his head into that hand. His sighs were deep now, and his eyelids fluttering closed.

"We can make this work together," Kuai murmured.

"That's the traditional way it's done."

"I meant the Lin Kuei, Tomas."

"Oh, right," his words were all shuddery and tilting on the edge of incomprehensible, "yeah, me too, obviously."

Kuai smiled and released Tomas's wrists, gathering him into his arms and cradling him close,

"We can make that work together too, don't worry."

Tomas nestled his face into the crook between Kuai's neck and shoulder. The world was warm and dark and smelled of Kuai Liang, and faint candle wax, and wet ink, and old paper that's sat in the cellar storage for too long.

"I wasn't worried," Tomas's voice was sleepy.

"That confident in your wiles?"

"I _am_ very beautiful."

"Very vane," Kuai corrected, half carrying his lover out of the old, cold study. Their soft bickering filled the temple with a gentler peace. The candle on the desk was left burning low; the smudged paperwork forgotten.

* * *

**Author Note: **It's been a while since I wrote any MK, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull out some subsmoke, but then I sat down and this came out in one go, so I guess these two are ingrained into the back of my brain somewhere!

Just a little soft something for my good friend Sketchydrawer, who's always pushing me to write more of the saucy stuff! I hope you have a great birthday -3-


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